


Spring.

by Morisae



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Drugs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gore, Killing, M/M, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Violence, Yandere, a lot of other bloody tags, psychopathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-20 15:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morisae/pseuds/Morisae
Summary: Forget that he used to be a stubborn kid who never shed a single tear - but sweet and docile, and so on, his mother always looked deeply at him with great expectations in her eyes and he had to watch the light in her eyes slowly faded away.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Dream a little dream of me.

**Author's Note:**

> I am back with this fic!!!  
Iwaizumi is a yandere and Oikawa is a secret killer/ assasin. 
> 
> If you've seen some fic with the name "Spring and Hades" posted by an orphant account then yeah, it's my fic. This is a remake of that fic which I added more details and chapter. This is NEW, so please read it all out. 
> 
> The fic is translated from my native language (Vietnamese), and it's really long, so I may made some mistakes as well. I would be glad if you guys correct me, thank you a lot.

  * _Are you going to Scarborough Fair?_

_ Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme_  
_ (Washing a grave with silvery tears)_  
_ Remember me to one who lives there_  
_ For one she was a true love of mine_

  
** _ (Scarborough Fair)_ **

* * *

  
_At the age of eighteen, Iwaizumi met him again in his dreams._

  
Iwaizumi still remember his voice so clearly, but he couldn't remember his name anymore. Time passed and Iwaizumi had to accept that his memories were gradually fading away, that he had forgotten a lot of things that he once thought he would engrave forever. Forget that he used to have a good very time in Sendai, forgot that Iwaizumi used to hold his hand and run in between the harvest fields, forgetting his mother's eyes when she put his hand on his cheek and smiled. Forget that he used to be a stubborn kid who never shed a single tear - but sweet and docile, and so on, his mother always looked deeply at him with great expectations in her eyes and he had to watch the light in her eyes slowly faded away.

  
His dreams were like an old TV that couldn no longer do anything. Iwaizumi could only heard his voice, repeated again and again in the dark, but he could never saw his face. He couldn’t remember his figure either, and his dreams were all like a one-way transmission, that he could never respond to the other side.

  
Iwaizumi wondered if this is a punishment. His punishment, especially. He wished that human could invent some medicines that could actually cure someone like him, replace him with a whole new heart, and then Iwaizumi could look at the one he loves so much with sparkling eyes just like other in-love people in this whole universe. He will never feel like himself is being stuck in crisis over where the other is in the moment, with whom Iwaizumi will never fall in love with someone to the point that he just want to break their bones and see their hearts slowly bleed out gold. If then, he won't have to—

  
_"Iwa-chan"_

  
That _sweet, sweet_ voice resounded, and Iwaizumi stopped thinking about it. Something special, something sparkle in his black pit of mind, something familiar, pulled him back to the memories of Sendai in that summer and Iwaizumi just thought, that maybe he is fine, even if it was a punishment.

  
_ (Even though it hurts, there's something warm and so satisfying to hear that voice once more)_

  
_I'm here_. Iwaizumi wanted to answer, but no words ever came out. _I miss you._ His eyelids were heavy and althought he knew that was just a dream, he still couldn’t deny the temptation that lingers in his stomach from that soft sound. He felt the bitter his throat, and Iwaizumi could not help but recall the way that person had left this world. The stairs did not hold him back and Iwaizumi was not alert enough to keeping him from that fall.

_ "Iwa-chan, it's good to see you, all grow up like this”_

Iwaizumi remembered watching the bright red shades of blood spilled all over the other’s face and the teacher pulled him back from the stirs with a terrifying scream. He remembered the move- the last days he had in Sendai, the gazes from the neighbors, someone's sharp, filled with hatred gaze, filled with anger mixed with sympathy and suspicion.

  
"It's a shame I can't be with you, but you'll be fine. I'll protect you. Do you remember? You always protected me when we were kids even though I never asked for that. Now it's my turn"

  
Iwaizumi nodded because that was the only way he could pass a signal to the other side. The feeling of death made his head ached and cold. That voice is gentle. Only slashes, slashes, that's all, but it echoed in Iwaizumi's chest and made his heart tremble like a thounsand kisses at once.

  
"I'm always with you. If Iwa-chan listens carefully, you can hear me, and I can hear you too"

  
I promise, Iwaizumi whispered, tears welling up his cheeks as hot as fire.

  
_ "Iwa—"_

  
_ "Iwaizumi—"_

  
_ "Iwaizumi!"_

  
Iwaizumi opened his eyes, startled, his chest choked. His cheeks were wet as he looked dreamily towards the direction that the voice had just escaped, before he realized it was—

_Oikawa._

It was eight in the morning and Iwaizumi was so embarassed wished he had a hole to hide himself.

Oikawa started stepping back when he woke up. His cheeks were warm,and he didn’t even have the energy to grumble at Oikawa about the fact that he's always carelessly touching other people. Iwaizumi tried to control his breathing. A handkerchief was presented before his eyes with a worried, anxious face.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Oikawa asked as Iwaizumi hurried to wipe his forehead from sweat "The weather is chaning, so it is easy to get tired"

“That's none of your business," Iwaizumi growled. Oikawa, who was used to it, giggled with an unbearable stupid looking face "Also, how many times have I reminded you not to eat sweets in the morning?"

  
Oikawa ignores Iwaizumi's daily education on health and grinned "I have never met any convenient stores’ staff that cares so much about customers’ health like you”

  
“Yeah, yeah, idiot”

  
Iwaizumi looked at the face that he had gradually become accustomed to, paid attention to the way Oikawa dropped the milk breads on the counter, the way his hazel eyes blinked slightly and zoomed in Iwaizumi, gleamed like the sun. He thought of his beautiful face, while restraining himself so that his cheeks didn't turn red and started to stare at him for more than a minute.

It takes you four minutes to fall in love with someone.

College student Iwaizumi Hajime looked at the graceful hands that were lightly pressed on the white surface, imagined the feeling of those hands stroking his cheeks, imagined the sensation of each muscle twitching slightly when that soft voice came from his ear. About the weather, about life, a social compliment or even a whirring sound while waiting for the old cash register to run- anything that could open his mouth to communicate with Iwaizumi. And Oikawa did it right away- the only difference was that Iwaizumi had responded with a frown and a glare, the feeling of distant fuss, the sounds of grumbling went out of his mouth as if they were no longer obeying the control of his central brain.

People said that it takes four minutes to fall in love with someone, and Iwaizumi did it in the blink of an eye.

  
Iwaizumi looked at him, takes note of the way he smiles, his lips parting softly, smooth and comforting, create a beautiful curve. It's always that damn smile, both silly and gentle, and it soothes Iwaizumi's mind, while it heats his cheeks and his whole feature. Iwaizumi unconsciously counted the smooth existence of tiny freckles on his face, one, two, three, four.

  
In a month, everything should have become clear. Iwaizumi should have stopped paying attention to the way his heartbeat increased, the way some mysterious magic was being released, the way that something inside his body is moving smoothly to produce the emotion that people call love , and that he is willing to crush his whole life and his heart to give it to Oikawa so easily like they were Icarus and the sun.

  
_ ** ( In a month, it should have become easier for him, like the way Iwaizumi folded the clothes in the closet for the twentieth time, the way he kept himself in the toilet to scrub his own body over and over after returning home. Oikawa should have become so easy to understand, just as Iwaizumi saw clearly the eight cracks on Aoba Johsai's window glass, the exact height of the volleyball net, two red lines on the shoes, twelve rice packages lined up on the convenience store shelves, three curls hanging down Oikawa's beautiful forehead-----)** _

  
Oikawa smiled at him, and Iwaizumi didn’t think about it anymore. Contrary to his speculation, that Oikawa will become something so easy to understand and that Iwaizumi can finally endure to not show his damn obsession for Oikawa after a month of being acquainted with him. But then, he always makes Iwaizumi dull --- of the way his body moves, bright smiles pretty eyes. All of that make Iwaizumi feel like Oikawa is like yellow lights from a warm house in the dark night, like the presence of the moon so that the waves can rise on the sea. He never fails to make Iwaizumi dumbfounded by the way he talks, or to be honest, only his appearance can makes Iwaizumi holds his breath every morning watching him stepping through the doorway.

  
There was something in the way he smiled, his sharp lines, calm but no less attached, the reassuring warmth that can make Iwaizumi dream about the whole galaxies and stars.

But at the same time Oikawa is also a painful reminder, a sharp knife which pierced through Iwaizumi's stomach, the sharp edge touching each of his childhood memories.

_ ** (Oikawa Tooru has twelve dots of freckles on his face. One, two, three, four. Iwaizumi counts, his eyes under the thin glass constantly chasing every movement of the brown-haired boy in front of him. Five, six, seven, eight. Regularly, adjacent, like the fact that his mom used to hug him and kiss him on the cheek once, twice, it was like he had grabbed the hand of the person he loved, like the two of them ran at twenty kilometers per hour through Sendai's fields in the summer until they arrived at school like he loved him so much like how he understood the meaning of a fall of love and quarrels occurred in the hallway near the stairs and the skin of that beloved person conveyed a soft feeling when touched and--)** _

Iwaizumi let out a heavy breath as Oikawa lightly touched the back of his hand. _Thank you,_ Oikawa smiled and said, tucking the change into his pocket. _See you tomorrow._

  
There were two thoughts in Iwaizumi's mind when Oikawa walked out the door. His mind wobbles between feelings of lightheadedness knowing he will see Oikawa again tomorrow. And then he thought of that person, his gentle voice, his innocent face almost enveloped in the beautiful brown hair, that was gradually faded away from Iwaizumi's mind.

  
Iwaizumi loved him but Iwaizumi didn’t want to lose him.

* * *

At four in the morning, there is no light.

  
He didn't let go the crowbar in his right hand.

  
The vivid light of the street lamp that reflected on red pools of burning liquid on the ground, melting into hard concrete, was the only source of light that Oikawa could see, and he didn't feel bothered about it. The smell of blood always makes him feel a strong burst of nausea in his throat, while the color makes Oikawa feel calm. He is alive. That thing, that liquid doesn’t belong to him, he had the supreme power of stripping them from someone else's body, he is still breathing, he is just doing things like usual, nothing more. Equally.

_ Calm._ He laughed at himself, thinking about how strange it sounds when someone feels calm while killing others.

  
He thought of God, thought of the Savior.

  
The June breezes became more numb than usual, and Oikawa frowned, his hand gripping the flap of the thin military green jacket in an effort to make himself a bit more warm. Summer had begun to cross the threshold of time and come to this city, but at four o'clock in the morning, he couldn't open his mouth to ask anything more than to endure these cold air.

  
Well, it may not be the cause of his problem. Maybe it was because his body was covered with the combination of a bunch of liquids, which was extremely inviting to the wind in pressing on his skin and lowering his body temperature - a combination of blood, sweat, rain water, viscera, and some things he can't even name.

  
The man in front of him groaned in pain. Oikawa tilted his head, and he even wanted to laugh at himself for calling it "pain". That couldn't be called _pain_. It's a _huge loss_ , Oikawa thought, the sound of sarcasm rising in his mind, echoing as if when people shouting at the cliffs and valleys. He didn’t know he should say the man is lucky or unlucky. Of the nearly twenty people who had just been killed by him, he seemed to be the only one alive, somehow, with a skull that was missing a quarter of it.

  
He stood upright, waited until the man looked up slowly, small crimson blood splilled out from the wound on his head, and he looked straight at Oikawa.

  
Along with the lights, the vivid lights. In the eyes of that man, it was a winter world. Oikawa had never met anyone whose eyes color are as bright, like the European winter sky, like the white snow that the stag has stepped on. In Japan, usually, he only sees black and brown. Black and brown. Normal, rustic, simple, making him happy, making him feel warm.

  
“Foreigners” Oikawa grumbled, looked into those eyes. The phone in his pocket fluttered softly, and Oikawa let out a curse, hoping that its screen was not blurred and sticky because of all the liquid that penetrated the cheap fabric of his pants.

  
Oikawa knew he had to hurry up.

  
Oikawa pressed on his knuckles, causing the joints to make some crackling sounds, looked down at the man lying miserably in the pool of blood, with the look in his eyes as if Oikawa’s attention to him is less than a tenth. Part of his skull was crushed under the force of the crowbar, his left eye was not in its right place, the other rolls back to his skull, his torn, bloody lips emits obscene words- but With Oikawa, that's no different from the sound of a pig.

  
Oikawa tilted his head, his eyelids closed slightly, as if washing his ears from those disgusting sounds.

  
"Y-You fucking disgusting bastard ---" The man groaned, "Who the fuck do you think you're--"

  
"Ah, yes sir. Pardon me, I was impolite" Oikawa said nonchalantly, his shoulders hanging as if giving the man a signal of surrender, but his eyes said otherwise. His hand rubbed tight on the handle of the weapon, that with him, was like the sword of a mighty knight.

  
In Oikawa's head, there were two thoughts, one is to finish the man right now and other is his desire to touch the eyeballs with that sparkle gold-color with his bare hands and feel the warmth of it - warm means he can still breathe, warm means alive, edible, still exists--

  
The man's hand suddenly gripped in his pants, chill ran down his spine, and Oikawa's body moved automatically, the fire flaring in his eyes ---

  
Somehow, the vivid lights from the familiar red street lamps turned the starburst of blood into brilliant neon pink, and Oikawa thought, within half a second, that he should try to see it more. A consolation. Boring job. The sound of the crowbar crashing into the skull was like a crisp sound of his roommate biting into a piece of snack. That was too boring, trivial, not worthy of a human life that had just been stripped away, mingled with a love song from the window of some house around the parking lot.

  
The man’s body twitched, his entire head blossomed like a sickening plants although not much of his skull were still there. The ground turned into a lovely flowers field with all shades of red at once, turning Oikawa’s mood a little bit happy.

  
Oikawa was a bit surprised, honestly. He didn’t expect that guy to be- seriously- alive. He clicked his tongue in a annoyed way. That made Oikawa feel like his perfection was ruined.

  
“That’s very enthusiastic" Oikawa said, but his face showed the opposite.

  
He might be an elite student in the class, maybe over and over again getting compliments from teachers or juniors, but he realizes he doesn’t have enough vocabulary to describe the feeling of familiarity transmitted through his hands when the head of a familiar crowbar swings past someone's skull, devastating it, getting through it smoothly. The sound that was too boring, trivial, not worthy of a human life that had just been stripped away, mingled with a love song from the window of some house around the parking lot.

  
He absentmindedly remembered the documentary footages he had seen, those murderers spoke their feelings on the radio, even in the books, the journalists desperately trying to find a way to save themselves by posting those boring chats on the newspaper with a fake sensation.

  
Or they are just boring to him. Because he knew it . He knew how to be an excellent student, how to serve a destructive ball, to be a good setter, how to smile at everyone, but he also knew how to finish a man off with his bare hands.

"Good morning" He pressed the answer button, revealed a bit more excitement than usual. “ Four o'clock, really?"

  
"Come on, no one else can please me more than you " the voice with a low, sarcastic tone reached his ears, before Oikawa yawned, cursed the class he has at eight o'clock.

  
"Go away, Matsukawa" Oikawa growled, staggering to put his bag on one shoulder, walking towards the exit of this damn parking lot. "Money. Just transfer the money to me"

  
"God, who knows Oikawa the paid-killer is rude" Matsukawa sighed loudy, accompanied by a few clattering sounds that Oikawa guessed that it’s from the keyboard.

  
“Whoever lives without money?” Oikawa puffed his cheeks, his heavy footsteps echoing as he walked through the empty buildings.

"Done" Matsukawa answered. Oikawa checked the incoming message, made sure that the money was in his bank account.

  
"Really, what's wrong with those guys?" Oikawa furrowed his eyebrows and touched the cold door handle of an old toilet deep in the block. _Thanks God._ If he didn’t discover this place in the some few jobs before, then Oikawa didn't know how to walk out at four in the morning without meeting someone in a bloody shirt like this.

  
"They have hard skull" Oikawa said. " Very enthusiastic. It cost me a lot of bullets, stupid stuffs, and now? I'm exhausted to death ”

  
"Use drugs, smuggle, trade people, run gangs and bars, kill people for fun, a bunch of illegal stuffs you wouldn’t want to hear..." Matsukawa sighed on the other side, the quick list makde Oikawa knit the brows. “Whatever you want, get that as a reason"

"Drugs? No wonder those big ass fuckers were all horny like that ”

  
"Please know how to talk like a normal college students, Oikawa " Matsukawa joked.

  
“Yeah, pardon me, Mr.Matsukawa” Oikawa would join in Matsukawa’s funny conversation if he’s not frustrated because of that stupid pig he just killed earlier.

  
"Well, did you do everything cleanly?" Matsukawa asked again, after a moment of silence.

  
Oikawa smoothed out his sweat-stained hair, looked at his reflection in the mirror, into the spreading red marks, sticky pink thing that people call brain all over his torso, into frayed sleeves, finally into his face with blood stains on both sides of his cheeks.

"It couldn't be cleaner" Oikawa shrugged, and Matsukawa answered with a light laugh before hanging up.

“Anyway, go home. I will make sure you are safe”

  
Oikawa buttoned up his shirt, put on his old glasses, took a minute to wonder if he looked like a college student then, or there was anything that left of a killer. And he thought about the documentary footage he watched, again. Ironically, he imagines what it would be like if he got arrested someday. Perhaps his face will be posted on the front page of the tabloid, with a more incomparable title, something like "This notorious serial-killer even cares about his sleek appearance after killing dozens of lives!"

  
He’ll make sure he look nice if that happens, because perhaps Iwaizumi would buy that newspaper.

  
It took him one month to form a habit, and before he even realized, buying junk food at the nearby convenience store has become an integral part of his daily process, at least a little bit that makes him feel comfortable after a long night of, if he can say, _jobs._

  
But it’s not the foods that keep him in.

  
_It’s Iwaizumi._

  
He remembered the image of Iwaizumi pausing, crouched down on the cat lying lazily on the tile floor, the corner of his mouth opened to form something that makes Oikawa wonder if Iwaizumi is smiling. He is not jealous of that cat, as he thought he should have felt like that.

  
The cat helped him, in a way. Seeing Iwaizumi smile is a rare thing.

  
Unlike Oikawa’s, his feature, especially the skin looks smooth and whiter, without any trace of freckles or melasma.

  
_ Perhaps that's why you're so good at making a mask_, Oikawa thought.

  
There was something about Iwaizumi- even when he was looking at Oikawa with the usual curious eyes, even when he sat by the window, smiling at the birds outside, looking quiet and mature like all normal college students. Something is missing inside Iwaizumi, something Oikawa can't name, making him think that Iwaizumi is no longer a human. Perhaps he had lost a part of him somewhere that Oikawa is unaware of, and perhaps it’s just one or two parts of Iwaizumi is really a human being.

  
And that makes Oikawa feel _overwhelmed_. With the experience of someone who has went through depriving people’s life from time to time, Oikawa knows. People are aware, they have fears, know how to step back in suitable time and calculate in front of their enemies or when they are stuck in a dangerous situation, but animals do not act the same. Animals are more resilient. That's why Oikawa hates them, why he hates it when the watchdogs look at him with sharp eyes, the cats stick to him even when he's frustrated about it. Iwaizumi is not an animal, of course. But he is slightly, imperfect, or abnormal.

  
Iwaizumi is in the gray area of Oikawa mind, and Iwaizumi is not a human being , Iwaizumi Hajime is not a human being , and Oikawa loves it ---  
Killing people is easy, but not the rest.

> _Things that are not easy to kill are the most interesting things._

"Your face looks so smooth" Oikawa praised, smiling "Can I touch it?"

  
Iwaizumi looked at him, his eyes wide, his eyebrows furrowed like a rejection, but then he nodded. Took that as a agreement, Oikawa leaned in, slightly touched his cheek. At first, when Oikawa did it, Iwaizumi felt unfamiliar. Oikawa knew it, according to the way Iwaizumi shivered, snuggled deeper into the school jersey outside the convenience store's apron. Oikawa bited his lips, trying not to let out a satisfied smile, trying to hide his trembling hands like twigs in the storm. I understand that. He thought. I can't get used to the contacts of mortals too.

  
But Iwaizumi is the special one, so he doesn't feel uncomfortable touching him.

  
Oikawa's fingers gently touched Iwaizumi's hair in midnight-black, while Iwaizumi's (soft, and warm) hands travelled on his slender wrist, stroking his skin.  
In a month, everything should have become clear. It should have been smooth and fast, like Oikawa have crushed the skulls of a hundred people with bare hands, like the way those sounds of broken bones still echoing in his mind. But he still couldn’t tell Iwaizumi the true, that Oikawa loves him so, so much.

  
"Is that enough?" Iwaizumi asked impatiently, and Oikawa quickly catched the blush on his cheeks. Instead, he smirked, not letting go of Iwaizumi's hair.

  
Iwaizumi stayed silent.

  
Oikawa stared at him, his fingertips numb and his heart seemed to start a riot in his rib cage.

  
Oikawa thought about the hands that he used to touch Iwaizumi face, the same that was used by him to kill a bunch of ass holes just some hours before, the hands that was covered with blood, sweat and dust- but it was so nice, after touching Iwaizumi.

  
He thought about the way Matsukawa once said that he has a pair of eyes that can makes anyone melts. Oikawa felt like Iwaizumi is the same, yet so different from him. Oikawa’s gaze makes those people melt in fears. Iwaizumi eyes make Oikawa melt in warmness and complacency.

  
But that's true. That Oikawa has to hide it, the fact that he has a mind strong enough to go through all those disgusting things, a pair of unforgiving honeyed eyes with no mercy, that have no hint of humanity hidden in it. Sharp lines that could express violence, ultraviolence. His face painted on the coldness, the lumpy fist, the hands that he was accustomed to easily breaking someone's neck- all things that are in stark contrast to the way his hands can gently fondles Iwaizumi's fragrant hair.

* * *

  
_ He was a person who agreed with everything his victim said before he killed him._  
** _ \- Thomas Harris, Hannibal._ **


	2. It has to be you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matsukawa was not good at talking, Hanamaki knew that. But he knew what to say, what he needed to hear at the right time, thrusting the correct knife into the heart burning in his chest- not the thick sharp blade that slanted his mind, but a gentle slash that ingeniously made his heart would open before him and nothing could be more shimmering- the heart he knew was aching and every pulse was only for Matsukawa.

Matsukawa was completely sincere when he said that he would rather spend nine hours listening to Oikawa talking about his beautiful face than use that time to teach those students.

For Matsukawa, sitting in front of the computer receiving instructions from The organization, sending all those information to Oikawa and waiting for him to complete it, then cleaning up the following, is so much easier than sharing his knowledge for a group of people who don't even care. But he needed this job. He needed a cover, seriously, just as Oikawa and other members of The oganization. He didn’t want to realize, at some point that he is sitting in the prison, doesn’t want to lose the only source that response to his strange hobby of horrifying bloody things.

He looked down at the classroom while flipping through the papers, looked at all those indifferent faces, some were even falling asleep or checking the phone - and he wished he could had enough money to hire Oikawa and kill all of them. He mean, he could have had enough money, if they hadn't been poured into trying dozens of sleeping pills, tranquilizers and stimulants every night. He really, really wanted to sleep, just as he wanted to die from discouragement for nine hours in this damn college.

_Perhaps die is even easier._ Matsukawa thought. Death is only a long, eternal sleep. He could not even sleep for five minutes, could not sleep even though he had tried everything- strong doses, illegal drugs, slammed his head against the wall, strangled himself, but he still could not sleep without having nightmares, unable to sleep peacefully without looking like he is being tortured, even ---

The bell rang, and Matsukawa woke up from his thoughts. He let out a breath, closed the book, handed out some instructions even thought he knew that there were no words that reach the students' ears. He sighed loudy. Matsukawa should have gotten used to this, but he is a too easy-going, too considerate of others to be able to ignore his students.

He laughed at that very thought, at himself, thinking about the number of people who had died in front of his gaze, under his hands, indirectly. But it was also refreshing and satisfying. A soft, timid voice cut through his mind.

“Matsukawa-san?”, it said.

Matsukawa turned around to the direction where the voice came out - and a slender, tall figure entered his view. The eyes narrowed as if it can smile. His skin was so pale, his (beautiful) fingers were long and thin. And Matsukawa catched the moment when sleepiness slowly vanishing from the chestnut brown shades in his eyes, bright and prominent on his face with that short-cut hair---

_Ah, your hair is pink, like cherry blossom,_ he thought. _You looks beautiful,_ he thought.

"Yes?" He answered after examining the person in front of him clearly. He looked no shorter than Matsukawa was, but Matsukawa still had the feeling that he was much smaller based on that slender and skinny build. He had a face that could not be called singular, but the lines exuded a fragile, graceful look, the bridge of his nose was straight, and Matsukawa knew he should not stare and consider other people's feature for too long like this, but he could do nothing but be attracted to the peaceful presence on his face--

_It’s like snow._ Cold, yet beautiful.

"Ah, yes. The school informed me that you was a bit busy in preparing the lectures and school projects, so I was sent here to be your assistant in times of need" His voice was not as light as Oikawa, but deeper and warmer “In short, this is my contact information and you can message at any time, the school also gave us a new office in building B that you can go to see it tomorrow and-- "

He said quickly, his hands flipping through the thick file, while Matsukawa was too busy comparing his brown eyes to Oikawa's. It was lighter, he thought. And softer. "Before we talk about it, I think you should let me know your name first" Matsukawa smiled slightly, and the person in front of him immediately startled, scratched his hair in awkwardness.

"Hanamaki Takahiro" he said, calmly, with a smile "I know it is a long name, so you can call me Hana or Makki at your will, like my friends call me"

"Hana is okay" Matsukawa politely answered. A beautiful name.

The noise outside the window catched Matsukawa's attention, and he looked up absentmindedly, watching the afternoon sky turning into a red shades like the color of blood, the trees that looked as they were burning in flames and the buildings on the back of the university looked as if he was standing in front of a deserted castle.

"That sound is annoying " Matsukawa muttered, flipping through the file. Hanamaki looked out the window, then looked at him "Hm, I hate it too"

He let out a smile that Matsukawa didn’t know he should call it radiant or dangerous. But it made him shiver, though he didn’t understand why. Matsukawa couln’t read his expression either, because his honeyed eyes were covered, eyelashes narrow into a little smile.

"They're crows" Hanamaki simply said "They bring bad luck"

The birds’ sounds vanished into silence.

Matsukawa thought that he should take note of the way he smiled.

* * *

He thought about then, about how he had become closer to Hanamaki.

It all happened a long time ago, Matsukawa with the name teacher that he hated so much, Hanamaki with a secretary card and a smile that could make his heart melt into bubbles. Matsukawa had to confess that he had never loved anyone, especially with his job, Matsukawa had always thought that it would be better if he did not. But then, you know, romance is the thing that no one can ever handle. The first time they met, five minutes of conversation, and his mind went completely like this: my new secretary looked nice and hsgshsjdh oh god this is love at first sight. And just like that - somewhere last Friday, Matsukawa realized how close they were to each other when they saw Hanamaki's mattres in his locker. Hanamaki laughed when Matsukawa told him that. He said that the holidays would soon come, the students will go home and Matsukawa wouldn’t need to see him for one to two weeks. Matsukawa wasn't sure how he should feel when he heard that. In fact, he had to admit it was fun - they worked together all night, sometimes falling asleep together on the couch and laughing at each other's face the next morning because of the dark circles under their eyes. Even though his work kept piling up with papers and books, even though he had to surreptitiously deal with Oikawa’s jobs because Hanamaki stayed at his house for most of the day, he didn’t bother much. In fact, for the first time, he admitted that his insomnia wasn't so bad: he had more time than a normal person would have, to take care of everything, drink a cup of coffee and read a book at four in the morning and then watch Hanamaki softly fell at sleep.

Matsukawa said that he didn't mind. Recently he had to work more carefully and discreetly, just because Yahaba had called him and said that he thought there was some cops that wanted to ruin their business. The fact that a bunch of amateurs wanted to mess with him made him feel tired - but compared to Oikawa, he thought that he had no right to complain. And he couln't talk to Hanamaki about that either, like, _"Do you work overtime?" - "Yeah, I work in an organization that allows mafia to hire assassins and kill each other, arranging contracts and I am really good at this! " _

Matsukawa said that he didn't mind. A long time, overwhelmed by works and the tight schesule made him gradually get used to the fatigue. Matsukawa once said that the one thing that he hated the most was spending time with those damn ungrateful students, because in times as such, his mind was always empty and he would rather spend time with Oikawa. He once said that he hated this job, because of the dumb management of the school boards that didn’t stop making his insomnia worse.

But then he was there, hand in hand with Hanamaki as Hanamaki hummed a messy, cheesy song, and they were happy. Until now, he still didn't fully understand why Hanamaki could accepted to let him hold his hands like this. Is anyone looking right now? Do they think of them as weird guys? Or what if Hanamaki always thinks the same but didn't say it out loud? He may know how to kill someone, but he could not understand why his mind kept twisting because of a sudden fist, nothing more than weak fingers digging at each other. 

In mid-July, the summer night was hot, bringing out the smell of moist soil, covering the city tinged with the gloomy color of the sky.

"I think it's going to rain," Hanamaki said. The first few drops of rain fell on his hand and Matsukawa realized that he was right. As the crowd moved, some people let out unpleasant words about this sudden rain, the rest quickly returned home or ran down to a porch, hoping to find shelter. Matsukawa clicked his tongue. 

"I forgot to bring an umbrella again" Matsukawa sighed because of the uncomfortably hot weather "It was still very hot when I got out of the university, so I didn't think that---"

"I have one here" Hanamaki said, pulling out a folded umbrella "We can share it together"

"You are really careful"

"Oh? Isn’t it because of you always forget important things at home?" Hanamaki raised an eyebrow, narrowed his brown eyes, and peeked slightly at him. The freckles on his white skin soothed his mind. Matsukawa let out a short laugh, then took the turquoise umbrella from Hanamaki's hand.

"The roads must be congested now. It's okay to just stand here for a while" Hanamaki suggested and he quickly responded with a nod. They stood together by the wall of a certain house, waiting for the swarm of people to fade in the bleak horizon of the sunset. At the end of a hard day, he had to stand here for at least another fifteen minutes just because of a sudden rain in the middle of summer. But strangely, Matsukawa didn't mind it at all. He sneaked a glance at Hanamaki, and he thought that maybe he was cold. It was already eight o'clock outside. It wasn’t hard to realize it, because Hanamaki kept shivering in thin layers of clothes and wide pants that couldn’tt keep him warm enough. He clicked his tongue, closing the gap between the two of them, leaving Hanamaki just enough distance to rest his head on his shoulder.

Hanamaki quickly touched his hand. Matsukawa didn’t understand why they would do such silly things sometimes, but neither of them had a problem about it. At first, when Hanamaki touched him, he just felt unfamiliar. He was slightly startled, pursed his lips, breathing in a daze. Living so many years in the world, he never thought that he would ever like people, he has never been used to breathing in between a crowd. For him, humans are a poor and selfish species, people fight each other, more than lose, do anything to improve themselves. He always thought about that, when he received instructions from his superiors. One side wanted to kill the other, the other wanted to kill this side. He was so, so used to it. So he didn't feel the fear of killing people like the first time. He just grown staying calm, his mind flat as the lake in front a bloody scene or when Oikawa dragged his body into Matsukawa’s house with bloody clothes and - things he didn’t even know. But Hanamaki was something else. When he touched him, he realized he wasn’t afraid anymore. People call him devil, call him murder, everyone wanted to run away from him or send him into some dark place and then break into pieces. Hanamaki belonged to a special category, that he made coffee for him everyday, or woke him up at eight in the morning, did his work to give him more time to nap. Hanamaki- stood there with him under a canopy of an umbrella, showing a blossom, innocent smile in front of the sudden rain, the dragonfly wings hovering back and forth.

He suddenly shivered. "Are you cold?" Matsukawa raised an eyebrow.

"No," Hanamaki smiled "It's a gloomy day, which always reminds me of things from the past"

Matsukawa did not ask. Hanamaki also had no need to tell him, so Matsukawa liked him because he never asked redundant things, and so on, Hanamaki could be honest with him.

_At least, for now. _

It was raining heavily and Matsukawa's mind drifted between the thoughts, the summer rain was not so bad, and he didn’t know why Hanamaki could just stood there, beautiful, radiant, smilling, and simply_ dazzling. _

* * *

The heavy wooden door opened with Matsukawa's wet hand.

"Ugh, damn it ..." he groaned irritably "What the heck?"

"And we still have to work, wow, such nice such happiness" Hanamaki sighed. He didn't try to be an asshole or anything, but it was true and he wanted to die so quickly. Hanamaki wished the documents they had to complete would melt into pulp so that he could excuse himself to quit his job, but God must not have heard his earnest prayer. "I'll lend you something to change" Matsukawa called out from his bedroom, while rummaging through the closet to find something that he could wear in a mess. His effort was rewarded by the fact that after about thirty minutes of bathing, Hanamaki sat still on his sofa with the laptop in front of him and an indescribable drowsiness on his face.

Matsukawa got tired. He nodded repeatedly, dropping the entire file in his hand- couldn't resist of the sleepiness- and contrary to what he had expected, Hanamaki didn’t angry, not even grumbling about them having bunch of things to done. The look on his face lighten up under the living room's golden light, the late night curled up like cigarette smokes outside the huge glassed window behind him. Matsukawa guessed that the sweater could not make him warm enough, but his cheeks were heated by the warmness of gentle pink.

"Is Matsu-san sleepy?" He asked, and Matsukawa nodded slightly, watching his slender back still working diligently in front of the computer.

"Didn’t you tell me that you has insomnia?" Hanamaki looked at him.

"I guess it's over" Matsukawa shrugged, trying to keep his cold face as usual.

"That’s nice ” Hanamaki said, his voice low and trembles. That’s so, so nice , Matsukawa thought, sighed.

"But we still have work to do” He put the coffee cup on the table and slided himself into the distance between Hanamaki and the sofa's back. Sitting behind him like this only makes the sleepiness in Matsukawa raging more intensely in his mind. He picked up the folder and pushed the glasses over on his nose.

“What can I do when I want to work and want to go back with my pillow at the same time?” Matsukawa muttered, sounding more like a complaint than a question, but Hanamaki still answered him (he always do)

_"Then use me as your pillow and keep working" _

If his face was previously heated by sleepiness and small joy at the same time, then in the suceed moment, it felt like burning. He rested his head on Hanamaki's back, his arms around the the other’s belly in an effort to make him feel warmer, the other hand holding the papers and he felt like no words could get into his head. And it felt so nice. It felt like home .

“Is this okay?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling. A man working in the black area like him, an inhuman murderer, was trembling not because of the coldness, but the warmth, in a quiet summer night. He really wanted to laugh at himself, yet Hanamaki is here.

"It's okay " he said, and the sound from the keyboard is the only thing that rang in Matsukawa’s ears.

Things kept going on for about two minutes, and Matsukawa could just stare at the cherry blossoms blooming on his hair, the roses hidden under his cheeks and those freckles (that always feel like kiss marks made by the sun) on his shoulders- if he didn’t suddenly speak.

"Matsu-san ?” Hanamaki called, and Matsukawa raised an eyebrow

"Hm ?"

"So you haven't slept yet"

"Turned out it's not that easy" Matsukawa said, arms tighten around his stomach, pulling Hanamaki into a quiet dance, and he took his hand off the computer in response to Matsukawa .

"What are you thinking about? " He gave out a boring question, and Hanamaki breathe lightly, a smile was drawn on his face.

“About you, I think" he said.

"About me? Is that so?"

“Yes, about Matsu-san" He repeated and then a giggle came out.

"Matsu is fine" he interrupted. Hanamaki nodded, stayed silent.

"Hm, Matsu?" Hanamaki said after a moment, and didn’t hear any answer back. Matsukawa voice vanished into silence. Hanamaki smiled. The thought that Matsukawa must talk to him before going to sleep made him a little happy. He turned off the phone, stood up to close the window then gently lay down beside him on the sofa that was only wide enough for two people. The noise of the city at four o'clock in the morning made him feel strange, but lying next to Matsukawa like that, Hanamaki felt like he was not afraid or bothered by anything. Time melted by, and Hanamaki sat up, covered Matsukawa’s torso with a familiar soft blanket, stayed careful not to wake him up - the person who was just felt at sleep is easy to startle. He stared at the ceiling, the thoughts screaming like storms inside his head.

* * *

Hanamaki once told Kunimi and Kindaichi, back in one evening when the three were in a shift, that soon, he will die.

"When I was in high school, I was bullied" Hanamaki continued, as if explaining to the two faces that were frozen because they sure didn't understand. Kunimi said nothing, just looked at him from the corner of his eye and that was what he had anticipated. Kindaichi stared at him either, his eyebrows furrowed in worry, the innocent mouth gave out awkward questions that made Hanamaki couldn’t help but smile.

"I were humiliated, battered and contemptuously just because I had a light hair color, my family wasn’t rich and I was a very quiet person” Hanamaki continued, pouring a glass of water as if it was not a big deal. “My body was covered with wounds, and it was very normal to have water poured into me or my books”

"Hanamaki-san being quiet" Kunimi muttered, not bothering to raise his face. Hanamaki just laughed. Instead of loud inquiries, he prefer hearing people speak their thoughts bluntly , so he likes Kunimi because he never said such polite and excessive words . "Damn unbelievable"

"I know right?" He just shrugged. " So, and now I’m here, being a high-ranking officer in the police organization. I’m happy, I’m satisfied, so I will sure die soon in a pay-back"

"Everyone will die" Kunimi said, resting his chin on his hand, his long hair slightly covering his eyes but he didn't mind it. The uniform made him look more skinny than in Hanamaki’s memory and Kindaichi grabbed his pale, slim wrist, as if softly telling him to stop.

"Excuse me" Kindaichi looked at Hanamaki and said "I think he meant that death will come anyway, so you don't need to look forward to it"

“Yeah, I hope so” Hanamaki slightly said, and that’s all Kindaichi can remember about that conversation.

He didn't know why he was recalling about that in the moment.

In the night sky of the city, the stars went high, shining brightly on an old, big building, the only window illuminating the golden light stood out against the pitch black. In that room, the flames in the fireplace were smoldering overnight, next to the two tables filled with papers and a round table that could be called clean - perhaps it was for the meetings. The light dance gently on the walls, on the portraits of famous leaders whose wooden frames were already old and bitten by beetles. On a makeshift bed makes of two chairs were some blankets, its creamy pink color softened in the warm lights from the flames.

"Kunimi" Kindaichi called out, sit down on the chair next to the desk filled with documents, on his knee were all the terrible informations. Kunimi looked at those papers with half of his face hidden in the blanket, raises an eyebrow, waiting for Kindaichi to continue. Although it is almost summer, but occasionally Kunimi was still suffers from a lot of stupid flus. So even though he looked so stubborn, he was still a little bit shabby, like a molting animal.

"What exactly is Hanamaki-san doing?" Kindaichi asked, and Kunimi secretly admired his sanity at four in the morning. "How is that organization like?"

Kunimi displayed an annoying expression, but he still answered "Kind of criminal organization. They kill and take money, somewhat like that "

"If it was just killing, shouldn't we focus on solving organizations that include smuggling, selling people, organs and others?"

"Crime organizations in the city hate and want to eradicate each other" Kunimi sat up straight, tapping his finger on the phone as if waiting for someone's call. “That's why the paid-kill organization exists. They do not follow any faction but only kill by contract and take back money. So if we can successfully infiltrate them, the police will gather a lot of information about the remaining gangs and thus a two-hit arrow "

Kindaichi seemed a bit embarrassed because he couldn't see that far, but his thoughts were cut off when Kunimi's phone rang. He clicked on the phone icon immediately, turned on the speaker and put it on the table. Kindaichi felt like Kunimi is only particularly interested when it is something related to work, then he also approached, listening to the sound of rustling on the other end.

"Kunimi? Kidaichi?” Hanamaki's voice rang out from the other end, quietly. There was no echo, Kindaichi thought, assured that they were not eavesdropped. "I was going to text you, but it seemed a bit unsettling so I’m calling."

"I think he's not so careful to let some eavesdrop device on you, but please be careful" Kunimi said, "So, where are you now?"

"His house" Hanamaki sighed "He is sleeping now"

"Woah-- impressive"

"It’s not like what you're thinking" Hanamaki growled, and Kunimi giggled. It was strange to see that they can still joke around in such a situation, Kindaichi thought.

"How is it?" Kindaichi added, held his breath, stopping the other two from the seemingly endless joke.

"It's hard" The pink haired boy said, his voice whispering, and Kunimi guessed he was hiding in the bathroom. "His laptop has a password. He only does shady things when I’m sleeping, so I can’t find anything”

"That's right, he is a high-ranking member, so being careful like that is natural"

“I don't have enough time to hack because he has insomnia, so he is mostly awake. There's an in-house security camera, so I can't set the eavesdrop devices ”

"Hm, yeah. What about hacking into that security camera?” Kindaichi suggested, and Kunimi nodded in an agreement even though he knew Hanamaki couldn’t really see them.

"That's why I’m calling. Can you contact Shiratorizawa to ask their hackers?” Hanamaki furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, letting out a sigh.

"Maybe they will agree" Kunimi said, "Although I don't like them at all. How annoying was their member’s behavior….what is his name again? Shirabu?"

"Ask them to solve the laptop and security camera, okay?" Hanamaki asked, his voice hurried “I believe in all of you” Hanamaki spoke quickly, then hung up, leaving Kindaichi still surprised.

"But hey, I think he didn’t give us the address to Matsukawa’s house?"

"I'll be in touch later, it's almost four o'clock," Kunimi said. "Hopefully Hanamaki-san will be fine"

"I hope so too" Kindaichi answered, but that's not really what he meant. But all he could think of now is just Hanamaki's softly voice, cheeks rosy in the lights of flames.

_“I’ll sure die soon as a pay-back” _

* * *

_In these three years, there was no sun. _

Hanamaki leaned against the bathroom door, folded his arms, his nails clenched against the skin beneath his shirt to prevent himself from trembling.

_He used to be an obedient student, an normal member but good enough to be in the school's volleyball team, a child who always knew how to please his parents. In the first year of high school, he thought he had two more years, two years to get more friends, to sharpen his skills and find things he didn't have. Except for. It stopped. Hanamaki can’t remember when, but the compliments from friends stopped, meetings stopped, lunches with everyone stopped, and all collapsed. Hanamaki remembers the way the rough fingers crept into his hair and slammed his head too hard, too violent, against the floor- it was painfully cold , and that’s something Hanamaki can’t ever forget. Painfully cold - when they looked at him and laughed at everything he said, everything he did, laughed at the fact that he talked too low for them to hear, and they always blamed him because he didn’t have enough money to pay for the lunches. _

_Painfully cold- when they ripped of his clothes and laughed like it was something funny we often see on the television, painfully cold when he heard someone said “What, this little fucker is crying ?” Some one giggled, someone laughed. It never stopped. It hurts, he wanted to say, but the words just didn’t come out as he want. It hurts - when he tried his best, called all the strength left inside his body to look at himself in the mirror, all blooming bruises and pink-red wounds, the heat between his hip bones--- _

The aftermath made him wanna cry, so he bited his lip, asked himself what is he doing right now- being such a weak and useless man inside his target’s bathroom at five in the morning. It’s kind of his habit (if he can call it like that). Recall those fucking memories and then cry like a god damn rat, hoping it can make him feel stronger, somehow.

He guessed it didn’t work today.

“Hana?”

Hanamaki startled when he heard (the only person he can think of right now) calling his name. Although it is not the right time, but---

His voice was warm, soothing, and gentle. It seemed that his useless mind is eliciting himself about the disgusting nicknames they used to call him, contrary to the softness and calmness of Matsukawa’s voice. Hanamaki took a deep breath, twisting the cold door handle, and then he faced him.

The amber lights from the chandelier crept into the corners of his face, the sharp edges that painted a gentle expression, the face Hanamaki had knew so well. The short curls of black hairstyle that is almost identical to Hanamaki’s, the dark circles under his eyes reflect that he had lost sleep for a long time ----

_But he was still gleaming and warm and beautiful and soothing Hanamaki's mind. _

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep" Hanamaki let out a smile, but sad and lack of energy "Did I wake you?"

"No" Matsukawa replied, his voice sleepy. "I guess it's hard for the insomnia to go away. Can’t really sleep”

"I'm sorry for that" Hanamaki showed the concern on his face, closed the toilet door and headed towards the living room. Matsukawa followed him. It seemed that he didn’t't want to use that room but just wanted to check where Hanamaki was. He wished he didn't hear the phone call, even though the bathroom had soundproofed doors and he had tried very hard to lower his tone.

There was a small squeak of the wooden floors when he stepped in the horizon of the living room, and Hanamaki looked at the big painting on the wall as if he had never seen it before (well, it is). Hanamaki blinked in stupidity, after a few seconds, he turned to Matsukawa.

"Did you buy that painting?" Matsukawa raised his head when he was pouring two glasses of water, squinting at the painting as if this is the first time for him to see it. Hanamaki guessed he was still not completely awake.

"Ah ... that's right" he said, got up and walked to Hanamaki's side as the two stood just in front of the painting. He shrugged. "It's just a copy, but it's quite cheap for a wall painting—"

“Is this John Everett Millais's Ophelia painting? ” Hanamaki interrupted him, pointing at the painting excitedly.

"That's right" Matsukawa smiled "You have knowledge. Have you read the book?” Hanamaki looked at the excitement in his eyes in nearly six in the morning and smiles.

"I read the story, and I really like what people say about Ophelia's death" Hanamaki folded his arms, looked at each detail on the picture. "They said it’s the most poetically written death scenes in history, don’t you think?” Matsukawa didn’t answer, but he looked at Hanamaki's face and that made his cheeks a little warmer than usual.

"She climbed onto a willow tree, and bough broke beneath her. She drowned in the water singing songs, as if unaware of her danger ” Hanamaki said, almost sang, his voice soft “It sounds so good, isn't it? They wrote that on the newspaper. I want to die that way too"

If the front of his sentence made Matsukawa smile, then he showed an unexpected expression when Hanamaki finished it. He bent down, as if he was going to ask some questions, before he saw the tears sparkling in the corners of Hanamaki's eyes, not yet given the chance to flow down his cheeks. Hanamaki knew he saw it, but he stayed silent, glanced at him. Hanamaki knew him too well. He might be a gang member who killed people like it is nothing, but he certainly wasn’t good at talking and appeasing.

“I----” Matsukawa cut himself off, then got closer to Hanamaki, his face lining with sincerity. After a moment, he clenched his jaw and looked at him. “I’m sorry, but are you okay? Want me to do something?”

“It’s okay” Hanamaki smiles, wipes the tears from his eyes. “It’s just...memories. Bad kids in highschool. Bully and things, bla bla, you know those stuffs”

“Ah-- I’m sorry” Matsukawa nodded his head, bite in his lip as if he didn't know what to say.

“No, I’m the one who should be apologize” Hanamaki let out a soft laugh, although his nose rosy “Sorry for saying such things”

“Sorry I’m not good with appeasing people”

“It’s okay. Sorry for bothering you”

“Sorry that happened to someone like you”

‘Why are we keep apologizing each other?” Hanamaki couldn’t help but giggled a little, and that made Matsukawa a little happier because at least Hanamaki didn’t seem to be sad anymore.

Time melted into warm rose gold sunlights from the window, and after a moment of silence, Matsukawa took a deep breath, looked at Hanamaki in the eyes.

“But thank you” he said, strangely soft (or it’s just Hanamaki stupid mind)

“Hm? For what?” Hanamaki raised an eyebrows.

“For still being here with me” Matsukawa opened his mouth and it’s his longest sentence Hanamaki has ever heard from him “You said you don’t want to live, yet you still appeared to meet me. I like being with you because you are quiet and never say something excessive. I like it when you let me warm you, and when you did all the works for me while I’m sleeping”

“You knew that” Hanamaki mumbled in awkwardness, like he’s being exposed. Matsukawa nodded, and then he laughed. He is too easy-going to see that Hanamaki was lying to him, and somehow that made Hanamaki’s heart shrink.

“Yeah, I--” Matsukawa tilted his head, intending to say something before --- He realized his face is too close to Hanamaki, and he knew Hanamaki also felt the same when he looked into his eyes. He could feel Hanamaki's breath on his cheekbones, and his mind screamed, telling him to _stop, stop_. But he couldn't. The soft skin slightly had some small freckles and soft-pink haired--- He wanted to stop and ask " Can I?" , _but he couldn’t wait no more. _

And so, he gently pressed his lips onto Hanamaki's.

The glow on Ophelia's dress shine in the corner of his eyes. And their rush, burning love, their lack of computation in a relationship along with the gold color on the painting, was the background of a kiss.

Not a passionate kiss, not the thought of Hanamaki wondering why he did it, or the sleepiness at six in the hazy morning- Matsukawa was not clever enough to think about anything right now, but just one whisper "I wanna kiss you"

Hanamaki Takahiro, soft lips pressed against his loved one’s, hiding his face from the picture, hiding his face under Matsukawa’s hands on his cheekbones and doesn’t answer.

_I want to be with you. _

Matsukawa was not good at talking, Hanamaki knew that. But he knew what to say, what he needed to hear at the right time, thrusting the correct knife into the heart burning in his chest- not the thick sharp blade that slanted his mind, but a gentle slash that ingeniously made his heart would open before him and nothing could be more shimmering- the heart he knew was aching and every pulse was only for Matsukawa.

Matsukawa was startled, hastily pulled himself away from the soft, awkward kiss, examining every change of expression on Hanamaki's face. It was not a passionate kiss, as he did a thousand times with the blessing of the girls at the bar- it was the slow sweetness of the first touch of the lips, a pure kiss. A leisurely dance, with soft beats singing. It was a kiss that represented hundreds of whispers._ I love you. I just want to be with you. _

Matsukawa thought he could only taste such a kiss on his lips, in a most mortal situation, being shot in the chest, a chase to the end or the last meeting in prison- with clasped hands and warm tears.

Instead, it just happened to him, like a miracle. Under the bright sky, in a residential apartment located in the west of the city. He looked into his clear brown eyes. And Hanamaki really, really thought that he understood what he was feeling.

Under his warm hand, Hanamaki's cheekbones trembled slightly and he felt a gentle breath escaped between his lips. Hanamaki couldn't help himself, but he recalled those distant memories again. He used to have depression. He used to be afraid of others touching him, including Matsukawa, even when he lightly grabbed his thumb in the rain, even when he gently hugged him from behind, with warm breath, with a steady heartbeat. But this was different - when Hanamaki caught his lips in, he couldn't be more passionate.

And the truth is they trembled.

And the second thing that could break Hanamaki's heart to pieces, is the fact that Hanamaki _loves_ him.

* * *

_I think kissing is the most pure and raw form of physical contact there could ever be. Sex is intimate, sure, but you can have sex with anyone. A kiss though, my god. A kiss can change your world. A small touch between two pairs of lips can blow your mind. Whether it be short and sweet, or long and intense. And when you find someone that looks at you like you’re more beautiful than a blossoming rose; you never want to feel another’s lips against yours ever again. _

** _\----The Purity of a Kiss_ **


	3. Think murder and walk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Matsukawa" he murmured, "I would just be a burden" 
> 
> "Then be it" Matsukawa held his (soft, and warm) hands a little tighter "Because I want you to be just that, my messy, stubborn, dazzling burden"

Iwaizumi used to be an easygoing kid with a tough appearance, and he remembered that he would rather spend the afternoon wandering in the back forest, chasing beetles and colorful butterflies than wasting time to sit still in the classroom for a whole day long.

But that summer back in Sendai was incredibly hot, and the temperature was unbearable for a child. So his mother decided to take him to a newly opened class on the edge of the city, where he spent the rest of his time until the end of June.

"In the beginning, I didn't like that place at all," Iwaizumi said, almost smiling, but his eyebrows furrowed. Oikawa took a bite of milk bread and watched the changes in his expression “The kids were big, but cowardly and loud and also stupid”

"Well, they were, kids" he gave a gentle smile to Iwaizumi, shrugged in response while absentmindedly thinking about how he hated children and their crying noises were really annoying_ (Oh, you won’t believe in the number of customers who hired him to kill their enemies in front of their children, but yeah)_

It was rare for Iwaizumi to suddenly say something so random, especially when he had never heard him talk about the past before. He gently wiped the damp sweat from his palms, relaxed his body and enjoyed every moment that passed in this preferential gift.

"Until I meet him" Iwaizumi smiled. This time, that was a real smile, the corners of his lips were drawn beautifully and his eyes narrowed gently under the glasses. “He was the thinnest person there, I remember that. And weak. A sweet child, but shy, even crying. After that, who knew how, we naturally got close. He is a beautiful child with brown hair, and I— "

"Oh, you thought of him that way?" Oikawa asked, turning his eyes towards Iwaizumi. Oikawa Tooru had dimples. Iwaizumi let himself be swept into it for a while before startling, the expression on his face suddenly softened.

"_I like him_"

Oikawa widened his eyes, turning his gaze to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi didn't understand why, but he took a small breath of air, trying to act natural under the curious gaze of those bright amber pupils.

"I guess ... I was overly controlling him, I think" Iwaizumi sighed sadly "I became obsessed with where he was, what he did, or was angry with him because he went out go played with other people "

"Well, that's normal" Oikawa shrugged.

"Then he had an accident, and my family moved to Tokyo. That's it"

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything more. He lighted another cigarette, and Oikawa watched the way the white smoke quickly blurred the glasses on the bridge of his nose. Oikawa knew there was something dishonest in Iwaizumi's story, and for him it was very strange. Iwaizumi was like someone who would never lied.

Moments melted into the faint light shining through the convenience store's curtains. The small TV hanging on the wall flickered slowly, showing of some unattractive news program. Nine o'clock. Outside must be hot as fire, the summer must never feel comfortable with them at all. Then he turned away from the TV screen, turning his gaze to Iwaizumi - he knew he shouldn't feel cold in the weather, but that was it.

Iwaizumi was located in the gray area of Oikawa's consciousness, and he didn’t know when Iwaizumi would break himself out of that boundary, that he belong to the white or black part and how much time was left until the moment Iwaizumi reveals his true self to him.

_But Oikawa can wait._

“So, Iwaizumi ..."

Oikawa smiled after a moment of letting his mind wander, between the dark and the bright areas and humanity somewhere outside. 

"Where is he now?"

The question raised caused Iwaizumi to freeze. His attempts to not remember it were shattered, his recollection burning in his chest as he remembered the gentle tones in that voice.

_If Iwa-chan listens carefully, you can hear me, and I can hear you too._

“At my hometown, I think so” Iwaizumi replied, trying to be natural. The person who was already rested under three feet of mud couldn’t expose him anymore.

"Is he really at home?"

Oikawa asked, making Iwaizumi feel cold for the second time in less than a little.

"Is that your problem?" He frowned at him, annoyed. Oikawa, who was already familiar with this, laughed out loud and quickly reconciled with his soft voice, like every time "Sorry, I was rude."

Iwaizumi was still angry, but he ignored it without replying. He took off his glasses and wiped it on his lap, pretending like he was busy. Oikawa still stared at his face, narrowing his eyes. Trying hard not to get distracted when Oikawa kept looking at him like that, he stretches, finally putting the food Oikawa just bought into his pocket, a signal that he wanted to end that conversation. Oikawa got up and paid the money, not missing the opportunity to look at Iwaizumi a little more. Summer looked so bright on him. Iwaizumi's strong arms were exposed under the sleeves of his shirt and his cheeks were ruddy in the sunlight.

Iwaizumi put on his glasses again, blinking as he remembered something. He gave Oikawa a newspaper and a bag with the convenience store’s logo “Just take it and read. These days, it were all awful people and stuffs outhere, so be careful when you go out in the evening. Really, this society…."

Iwaizumi left the sentence unfinished, but Oikawa was so busy thinking that he was right when he thought that Iwaizumi would buy the newspaper. A smile was drawn on his face.

"Thank you, Iwaizumi"

Iwaizumi watched in apprehension as he walked out of the convenience store, his mind as vague as if walking in the fog and the heart in his chest still beating so, so fast- althought he didn't know why.

* * *

** _A large-scale massacre was discovered and put into investigation at dawn yesterday, in the parking lot of an abandoned building, on the outskirts of the city. The victim consisted of fourteen people, none survived and some bodies could not be identified. The rest were identified as members of Karasuno - a yakuza gang operating in Japan. The motives of the perpetrator are unclear, but police suspected this was the result of a rivalry between different underworld organizations to compete for power or location. Police is currently can not localize any suspects. There was no clear evidence at the scene yet. There was no security camera, nor witnesses. The investigation is still ongoing._ **

* * *

Oikawa came in after knocking on the door three times. Matsukawa's apartment always bring in such a wonderful feeling- nothing compared to the room that Oikawa had to rent to match his image of a poor student. His large living room was decorated with yellow and white lights from the ceiling. His interior was elegant and modern, with a simple glass table and sofa set that suited his standards- comfortable and not fussy. Glass windows facing the city on the sixteenth floor- perfect.

On the wall, a large framed picture quickly caught Oikawa's eye.

Matsukawa walked out of the room, still looked sleepy and as lazy as usual. He scratched his head slightly, sat down on the chair and waited for Oikawa to approach.

"Did you read the newspaper today, gentlemen?" Oikawa gave him a big smile as he sat down on the chair and swung his legs. 

"I guess you didn't come because of such trivial things?" Matsukawa lighted on a cigarette. He rarely smoked in front of Hanamaki. 

"You understand me the best" Oikawa shrugged. "I heard Yahaba said that there was some organization that wanted to eliminate us. So I just wanna ask for more"

"I know nothing more than you" He sighed "I thought my computer was hacked, and someone was trying to break into customer calls with Aoba Johsai. It must have been the amateurs, because the professionals were not often be discovered by me, so I guess that's not something to care about "

"Yahaba told me that he guessed they weren't the cops”

“Oh, he still has many years to gain experience” Matsukawa smiled, but his lifeless eyes were the opposite.

"Anyway, I hope Aoba Johsai can handle this themselves" Oikawa nodded. Matsukawa understood what he meant, that he didn't want to be dragged into another side job at this time.

“I don't know. It's not my fault that the organization hiring all those damn amateurs who cannot guarantee a call to avoid it being detected" Matsukawa seemed angry, rubbing his cigarette tip against the ashtray. Ashes were still new. The smell smoke was faintly in the air.

"Oh, I know I can trust you." Oikawa smiled, pushing the glasses back on his nose. Matsukawa acknowledged that he would find Oikawa very handsome if he hadn't seen him did his “job” or had to clean up his aftermaths. Oikawa had a beautiful smile.

A soft voice interrupted Oikawa's smile and his thoughts.

"_Matsukawa_?"

  


Oikawa looked at the source of that sleepy voice and raised his eyebrows at an unfamiliar face who has just walked out of his bedroom. According to Oikawa's memory, Matsukawa never let strangers into his house.

The bright-haired young man startled from his sleep when he saw Oikawa staring at him, awkwardly letting out an awkward voice "S-Sorry if I bothered you, I am—"

"_Hanamaki_" Matsukawa interrupted, standing up while still looking at Hanamaki.

“It's okay, I was just gonna leave either" Oikawa said happily and showed him a smile as friendly as possible. Humans made him sick and he couldn’t stand another second. He put on his bag and stood up, walking towards the door with Matsukawa.

"I'll contact you if you need to."

He told Oikawa when he saw him off, his tall body fit in the door frame.

"No need," Oikawa replied, shaking his head slightly. "Let's just go over and play for a bit. I hope I won't bother you and—"

"My _assistant_" Matsukawa interrupted before Oikawa could spit out another misleading word, making him laugh.

"Anyway, Matsukawa"

Iwaizumi used to be an easygoing kid with a tough appearance, and he remembered that he would rather spend the afternoon wandering in the back forest, chasing beetles and colorful butterflies than wasting time to sit still in the classroom for a whole day long.

Oikawa nodded, tied his shoelaces, and waved to him one last time.

"_I hope that you’ll be careful"_

* * *

The restroom at Minami High School is located on the second and third floors, at the end of the corridor separated from the classrooms. At lunchtime, no one had the time to worry about what people were doing in that shit holes.

Hanamaki _knew_ that. He hated the fact that he was _so, so familiar_ with the old toilet door, with cracked mirrors and those rarely-used toilets. Terrible smell of trash. Chatter of clicking on the latch. The painfully cold of the floor. Fingers were so resisted that they became twisted, the feet hurt as if they were dragged on thorns.

The Takahiro family was that kind of family that couldn’t be classified as wealthy, so he had to be here, a low-quality high school with those constant evils and noble teachers who were all blind and deaf. Sometimes, Hanamaki imagined what it would be like if he were transferred to a better school, where he would never have to be beaten down in the hallway and walked in and out of the infirmary with a scratched face like it’s a morning routine. But he was the one who knew it best, that it would never happen: that his mother was too miserable to care about him, and his father, in a way, was not much different from those people here- those guys who bring him a restless nightmare.

And so, that's what he thought, when his body slammed into the back wall with a dull, big noise. The blood stains no longer frightened him and his head stopped going crazy with thousands of questions running around like the first time. He had become accustomed to it, and at some point, the smell of blood would become invisible to his senses, that had soon been worn down by violence. His ears buzzed in curses and laughter of pleasure. His nose was blocked with blood clots and dull pain. His eyes were blurry- they never let him look up, or look at anything other directions other from their ugly faces.

"Look at me"

The sounds suddenly returned to him. A long beep, like a siren, ached in Hanamaki's ears as he stepped back, trying his best to press himself into the corner of the toilet so he wouldn't have to face them. Face _him_. He couldn't remember the names anymore, but he thought it was unnecessary anyway.

His hair shined blossom in the bright sunlight coming from the school's air vents, feeling blood dripping from his nose and newly crusted scabs quickly cracked.

The other knelt down in front of him and smiled.

"Why are you avoiding my gaze? You have such beautiful eyes" Hanamaki’s ears heard him giggle, the pitch crumbled in his troubled awareness “I'm sorry I let them beat you up all the time. It's our fault"

Hanamaki widened his eyes. He didn't believe a single word in his sentence, but some invisible thing urged him to think of a glimmer of hope, like the blurry sunshine on those toilet walls.

"A beautiful face like this doesn't deserve to be treated like that, right? Now that I notice it, but you're just as beautiful as a girl, your skin is clear and smooth like this..."

He snorted, and Hanamaki felt a chill run down his spine.

Every knot of his uniform shirt was removed- and he knew, he hated the fact that he _knew_\- the tips of their fingers were rough and as cold as stones scraping deep into the flesh.

"W-wait! What do you think you're doing——"

As soon as the scream came out of his throat, Hanamaki felt strong fingers tightening around his throat, almost in an instant, and his head struck a thunderous blow to the tile behind. The floor was wet and cold. The feeling of suffocation came, and wet eyes sent all those heart-wrenching signals to his brain, which made the siren waving in his ears grew more and more intense. He barely took a sip of the air, praying for the power to return to his body as he swung his kick to the one in front, but the rest of them pinned him to the ground, fingers clenched around his skin, scratched his flesh, a rag stuffed into his mouth. The smell of tobacco is strong. The sound of someone swearing, giggling and rattle of the latch. Hanamaki heard the sounds of everyday buzzing in his ears before someone slipped fingers into his soft curls, the touch of disgusting running down his spine. _You are very beautiful, just like a real girl._

_Stop_. Hanamaki wanted to scream, but his throat tightened, aching, as if he had swallowed the scream back into his larynx and it was blocking his airway, making his head ache. Stop. It is difficult to breathe. They didn't care about the non-circular noises emanating from his throat, the disgusting hands continued to reach, from his chest, stomach, to his thighs, clutching his arms as he tried his best to struggle. 

_ Please, please, please, please, please _

The layers of clothes were removed. Tears blurred his vision, helplessness devoured Hanamaki's mind like a bottomless abyss.

"Ah, Hanamaki, Hanamaki..."

He felt something shattered in his mind.

The dazzling image of that blurry sunsets on the wall suddenly fell into oblivion.

* * *

The room was dark when Hanamaki opened his eyes.

The compressed breath in his chest quickly released when he gasped awake, panting for long breaths, gently wiping his forehead from sweat. He remembered sleeping at Matsukawa's room. Hanamaki hated the feel when he woke up without being able to remember what day it was and what time it is- if his coaches from the police agency was still there, they would be disappointed. Because one, this is the home of the person he is investigating. This is _his bed_. And second: _oh shit, they kissed._

There were sounds outside the living room. Hanamaki climbed out of the bed, relying on the small noise and tried to make his way to the door in the thick darkness. The windowpane in his bedroom was blocked by black paper and Hanamaki couldn’t look out or determine whether it was night or day. Matsukawa never gave him his address, but with what he had learned, he somehow could imagine the direction of the apartment building from the starting point- their university. _Good. Nothing is out of the plan._ He reminded himself to text Kunimi later. In the conversation about security cameras yesterday, he wasn't calm enough to send the other two directions of his whereabouts.

Good. Nothing is out of reach. Though he told himself that, he couldn’t understand why his legs were still trembling and he could feel the thick sweat on his forehead, flowing down the sides of his temple. His body was hot when he got out of the blankets, baggy in the T-shirt. Hanamaki hated it. He hated all the bones in his body structure, hated the pale skin outside and his light hair. He hated that he had a slender built and the scars on his body just never got out of his sight, never stop haunting his mind and wiggled there for hours and hours, they _never_ left him alone----

In contrast to the hot breath rushing out of his mouth, the door handle was cold as Hanamaki touched it.

* * *

"Was that your friend?"

Hanamaki opened his mouth when Matsukawa turned around and closed the door behind him. From his expression, Hanamaki could guess that he had just woken up no sooner than him. If his mind was normal as usual, then for now it must be be flying on the clouds and thinking about billions of different things, like how they slept side by side all night and how awesome he was. It should be like that, if Hanamaki ignored the fact that he was an intelligence police, and then just immersed in his love story, even for a minute.

But then (_how wonderful_), Hanamaki met him here.

_ Oikawa Tooru. _

_Oikawa fucking Tooru_, the person that if Akaashi was here, he probably wouldn't be able to hold himself back. 

Hanamaki remembered his name. Of course he must remember him. He was the one that Akaashi followed and was attacked by Oikawa for just, _guess what?_ Less than even eight hours. Akaashi was an excellent intelligence and is somewhat better than him in terms of skill and ability to hide expression. Hanamaki couldn’t forget how their teacher praised him when they were in the same training: The ability to use weapons is excellent. Ability to hide identity, excellence. The logic and the calculation, above all, great. And then he laid there, bloody collar on the ambulance. It was the first time Hanamaki had ever seen him so miserable- the heavy breathing, the crooked voice emanating between his scratched lips and Bokuto was there, tried his best to keep Akaashi calm, so that he wouldn't break, wouldn’t be shattered to a million pieces. 

_My left eye!_

Just thinking about it was enough to make Hanamaki shudder. That person, that young man with a bright face like the feels in an early morning and soft brown hair- carried in him the senses of a devil.

He still didn't know what Matsukawa was like, but he needed to be more alert.

"Ah? That's right, he is studying at Tokyo University " Matsukawa said, absent-mindedly messing up his messy black hair. Hanamaki _knew_ he was lying. Hanamaki knew so much, so clearly about him, that he wished he had never known that much, so he could love everything out of Matsukawa. 

“Oh, really?" Hanamaki answered absently. If he ever wished that he had attended another school, now, he only wished that he was not him, and Matsukawa was not Matsukawa.

Hanamaki softly licked his lips.

The room is strangely silent.

He crouched down on the sofa and rested the chin on his knee. Sweat still lingered on his forehead and he guessed that Matsukawa felt the same- he glanced at him in anxiety, then hurriedly stepped back, sitting down on the empty seat beside him.

If Hanamaki wasn't wrong, this would be the first time they were sitting together and being this quiet. Normally, he would pull out a lot of things to tell him and Matsukawa's mission was just to go along, about all sorts of things from the sky to under the sea could be use to built up their conversation. Social stories, a newly opened restaurant, bad pick-up lines he brought out to joke (that was just a lie and he was completely honest), or the recipe to make a good cup of coffee...

Whatever it was, Hanamaki felt like he couldn’t think of anything to start talking about. Every time he peeked at him out of the corner of his eye, all that popped into his mind was the kiss last night, his damn seductive whisper and that his scent was amazing when Hanamaki was immersed in it. He shouldn't feel that way about Matsukawa, but the truth is he does. He was great- and if before that, he had kept the thought of burying his love for him, then now there seemed that he had no reason to hide it anymore.

A bad situation.

"So ... Did you not sleep well yesterday?" Matsukawa asked hesitantly. Hanamaki didn’t understand why he had to hang out for that long just to ask something so obvious, but he still answered.

“Oh, it's fine, I’m used to it” Hanamaki shrugged his shoulders and spat out a dull line “You don't need to care"

"Why?" Matsukawa asked back and Hanamaki was surprised at the simplicity in his way of thinking.

"Because it's my problem. Why must you care?"

"But I want to”

"That would really just a waste” 

“But I want it to be"

Matsukawa said, this time with a bright, bright smile and lessening the languid look on his face "Uh.... was it because of the story— is it because of something you told me last night?"

Hanamaki was not surprised when he asked that. Ever since the moment he decided to tell him all about it, about the days of being beaten, or more difficult, about the fact that his body had been violated and there was no way to get it back. Ever since he decided to speak out, he had always formed the kind of feeling that it would become the subject of their conversation someday.

Hanamaki smiled gently at him.

“It has always been so” he said, calmly "It's okay. I'm getting used anyway."

His voice echoed in Matsukawa's mind. He didn’t understand why, but above all, above the ache in his heart and the uncomfortable itch in his hands, Matsukawa felt his throat offer a bitter taste of anger and helplessness. His fingers clenched tightly, nails stabbed into the throbbing flesh. He was trying to control himself, to find a way to avoid what they had done last night, trying not to drag Hanamaki into the dark mess of his life. But ignoring such far-off things, right now, the only thing Matsukawa wanted to do is pull him into a tight hug, with a whisper, that it's lucky that you're still here, that I am so grateful because I can still meet you, now, and here.

Matsukawa felt his hands itching, but he couldn’t do nothing more than rubbing them on his pants. Unpleasant feeling didn’t disappeared. _Why could Hanamaki talk about it so calmly? Why didn’t you appreciate yourself? You still have me_.. Thousand of questions whirled in his head, but then he still didn’t know what to say.

Instead, while keeping the silence between the two of them, Matsukawa leaned aside and tucked a lock of hair behind Hanamaki's ear. He knew this was an absurd act of nothing- because his hair was too short for him to make some excuses like “There's a lock of hair coming out of your face" 

That thought whirled in his head as he faced those clear, hazy brown eyes, his lashes blinking at him in puzzled wonder.

But then Hanamaki said nothing and just let him do that. The sudden silence of the space awakened his consciousness, the fragments of memories he did not want to think about. The memory before and after knowing what had happened to him, shattered into pieces and then united into one, which he could clearly see through: The way Hanamaki trembled in the evening darkness under the umbrella yesterday. The way he turned his eyes to the all those high school boys on the street, lips pursed and formed a sad smile. The scars imprinted on his back, no way to blur or erase. The hair that was too short. Small scars on the temple. In an instant, all these scenes flashed through his mind like shooting stars, lighting up all the dark patches that he was now aware of: that he was such a heartless and overwhelming bastard. 

"_Hanamaki_" 

Hanamaki startled, looking straight in the deep black hole ofhis eyes.

Matsukawa hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth, his hand still around the side of his soft face, touching Hanamaki’s hot cheekbone.

"_You don't need to worry anymore, because I will always be here_"

That's what he said.

Hanamaki really didn’t want to remember old memories. But again, Matsukawa was a painful reminder, a blade, every sharp corner, every ache. Matsukawa is like an iron chain, like the wound caused by a bullet, like a vast universe that he could not comprehend at all, tasting like the feeling when you’re absolutely lack of energy after a long, long walk.

"Matsukawa" he murmured, "I would just be a burden" 

"Then be it" Matsukawa held his (_soft, and warm_) hands a little tighter "Because I want you to be just that, my messy, stubborn, _dazzling_ burden" 

Hanamaki leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Not fiercely, but it was enough, so that Matsukawa knew that Hanamaki trusted him, that he could freely share anything with him and they finally can look at a new future together.

Matsukawa placed a hand on the wall behind him and leaned closer forward in an attempt to catch Hanamaki's lips.

Drowning in the vast silence, the scent on his body brought him back to the sweet taste of last night- kiss, kisses, and Hanamaki just wished it would last forever.

* * *

_ I last forever _

_ I have plenty time, _

_ Make marks, I do not panic _

_ Don't be afraid, _

_ I've been here before _

_ I'm made of Ivory, _

_ I eat cannibals _

(_**The Whale- Years & Years**_) 

* * *

The phone rang, mixing with soft sounds of classic music from the TV before Oikawa pick it up. He grabbed the remote to turn it off before clicking his tongue uncomfortably, his eyebrows furrowed. The afternoon show was boring, the freshly made tea was boring and that’s enought so Oikawa wasn't ready to be bothered by his damned work.

Oikawa clicked the button to pick it up without answering.

"Are you free today?" The familiar voice on the other end of the line was deep and sharp. Oikawa wondered what the day is “Speak directly about what you need, Matsukawa"

Matsukawa sighed, the phrase escaping his lips was heavy and maybe he himself was no happier than Oikawa "Work”

"Work? At five o'clock in the afternoon?"

"Seijou said so” Matsukawa said and Oikawa thought he just shrugged. Oikawa sighed, messed up his hair, hoping that the feeling of his nails scraping down his scalp might keep him awake at least for three more hours. Sometimes he just wanted that humans can die a little faster, stop crawling on the floor and turning Oikawa into some kind of labor.

He pushed the button to turn on the speaker and rummaged through his mountain-like clothes. Matsukawa regarded the sound on the other end as a permission to continue. Oikawa heard his voice coming from the speaker, still the long and dull melody as usual.

“Your target is Kuroo Tetsurou, the detective operating under the Japanese national police department. He's skilled. Someone very respectful, so Aoba Johsai was afraid he'll find something about us and sell it to the police department at a low price because of the bullshit friendship between him and Bokuto Koutarou. Eliminate him and his assistant if needed, and also, solve all the witnesses. Aoba Johsai arranged an appointment with him in a bar in Kabuki-cho. I'll send the address. You just need to find your way there- and please, don't mess with the yakuza"

“Who the hell is Bokuto Koutarou anyway?" Oikawa raises an eyebrow, dressed in a white T-shirt with tight black jeans. He liked to look at the blood stains on his white clothes- they were like a unique decoration, like the prestigious medals that no one else had but him. Oikawa reached for the dark green jacket and put it on. The layers of color had disappeared a little since his last job in the parking lot, and he was thinking that if it got dirty with blood and viscera again, he would have to throw it in the trash immediately. If a massacre took place in Kabuki-cho, as usual the police would almost always ignore it, so he didn't need to care if he had left such an exhibit. The yakuza are like bosses of the red light district, and Aoba Johsai seemed to be their fear.

"Last time, you blinded his lover and brought us a huge debt to the core member of the police station" Matsukawa chuckled softly, the tone of sarcasm resounded in his voice. Oikawa narrowed his eyes, trying to remember who he just mentioned. _As if he could remember all the people he killed._

_"_Oh, that black-haired boy. _Akaashi_? I thought he was dead" Oikawa chuckled "Do you know those types of person that you can tell they’re hiding something just by one look? That’s him” 

"Or because you're a monster" If Oikawa was sitting across from Matsukawa, he would probably see him rolling his eyes.

"Oh? I'm _heartbroken_. But you will understand right away if you’ve seen him. He's too careful and perfect. Nobody is that thorough when talking to others"

“So if you can't kill Kuroo, he's going to help Bokuto track you down some time, and then we'll die. At least you're lucky that you let someone else handle Akaashi and not yourself, so he didn't have any evidence that you were the one stood behind. You wouldn’t want to face that guy”

“Certainly" Oikawa shrugged. Two minutes ago he didn't even know what the hell Bokuto Koutarou was, let alone know how strong he was.

"Anyway, do your best. Made an appointment for him at seven. I'll send the address"

"Yes, sir"

Oikawa smirked before he heard the heavy hangup on the other end. He didn't leave right away - there was no need to hurry. His apartment was filled with silence, in addition to the rattle of the gun and the sound of the blades grazing into the case slung around his waist, softly and smoothly. In Kabuki-cho, almost no one would care about it if someone walks along with a gun in hand. But Oikawa didn’t have to do that. He liked the silence, liked to be leisurely gnawing on every minute of the preferential gifts. Among of his targets, some of them were in a higher class. Government officials. The yakuza boss. Member of the police organization, or people in authority- they have a unique flavor, a different charisma that Oikawa could do nothing but be attracted to them like an ephemera before a fire.

He tied his shoelaces and walked out of the house. It was still early - almost two hours before the appointment. He could go to Iwaizumi’s place and talk about his dear childhood friend, he could stop by Matsukawa’s house to drink a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette. He could walk around the streets with the gaze of the girls following his back. Oikawa smiled. He had time, there was no need to hurry while he could slowly enjoy.

The brown eyes under the near glasses lighted up a bit when he thought of Matsukawa.

_ Matsukawa, please send my regards to your assistant. _

* * *

_Kabuki-cho, Shinjuku's never-sleeping street,_ as it is called, is an inviting complex with a distinct of Japanese taste. Oikawa didn’t understand why foreign tourists spend millions of yen on lower-class casinos, rows of sparkling hotel bars or some cheap massage services here. Kabuki-cho is always on the list of must-once destinations when coming to Japan, always given a bunch of beautiful names such as the busiest red light district in the world, and so on. But people like him, who have gone through so many dirty things in the underworld, only feel disgusting when passing through this place. The bars were exaggerated with bright lanterns, inns with beautiful girls, adult magazines all over on the shelves- all just like rubbish on a corner of Japan, hidden secretly and lonely behind the brightness of neon lights.

He walked in the middle of the crowd, his eyebrows furrowed. Humans made him feel disgusting. He felt a throbbing throat every time a girl grabbed his hand and poured out an intriguing advertisement of cheap massage, but he wanted nothing more than to give her a bullet in the middle of her forehead. The gaze of unmarried women from the upper balcony made him shudder in disgust. The clumsy bureaucrats, who dressed nothing more than old beggars, drinking under the blinding red-pink light. The smell of smoke was thick. Rubbish filled alleys and prostitutes standing on the balcony retouching makeup- God, Oikawa thought he was going to be crazy before he could get to the rendezvous point, but the only one that he hold an interest in was not there.

_Iwaizumi_.

The name reverberated in his mind, bringing a special taste to the tip of the tongue. In Japan there are millions of people. In this neighborhood there are hundreds of individuals that always ready to cling to him, he had millions of different choices that he can take time to think through. But then, without hesitation, he chose Iwaizumi. It's still him, it's always been him. It was always Iwaizumi that kept him coming back to the shabby convenience store, always the one with the brightest gentle smile, and Oikawa was just think of hundreds of different things he could do with Iwaizumi.

And, he wouldn't be angry like this if he didn't have two hours to spend with him, and Iwaizumi was just merely replied "I already have an appointment". Of course, everyone has their own way of communicate, and social relationships are important, Oikawa knew that, and even him is not an exception. But we are talking about _Iwaizumi_. _Iwaizumi Hajime had an appointment. _The one who always rejects Oikawa and disappears after the shift as quickly as evaporation, Iwaizumi Hajime. Who could you go out with? Who was close enough to drag him to a restaurant, a street? Was that a girl? Classmate? Colleagues at the store? Oikawa couldn’t just interrupt and interrogate him. At that time, it was only a little before six. The familiar store was empty. Packages of bread stayed still on the shelf. Iwaizumi put on his glasses, a white T-shirt and said goodbye to him as he walked through the door.

Oikawa stopped before a dirty, narrow staircase and realized his patience had hit the bottom.

But anyway- _work is work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So MatsuHana is such lovebirds while Oikawa: Why the fuck Iwa-chan haven't fall in love with me yet and Iwaizumi: YOU CANT CATCH ME GAY THOUGHTS


	5. Head head heart.

_ Don't be afraid, _

_ I've been here before _

_ I'm made of Ivory, _

_ I eat cannibals _

_ I'll tie you up, I'll sail on by, I will. _

_ Oh, _

_I'll tie you up, I'll sail on by, _

_ I will _

_ (**The whale- Years & Years) ** _

-

The school meeting started at seven.

Iwaizumi didn't understand why he even agreed to come here, while he didn't even recognize half of the surrounding faces. Anyway, less than ten people in their class attended, so Iwaizumi could understand how bad his memory was. And all this bullshits just started because his mother called yesterday and told him in a demand tone 

"Go to the meeting, that would be better for you"

Sure. It would have been much better, sitting among the people that he had no idea at all and following the clichéd stories, filling his mouth with tobacco and beer so he wouldn't have to start a new conversation with anyone.

A girl with a flashy makeup look leaned forward and started showing a mysterious smile, hands clasped slightly. She glanced around at the faces around the table, then blinked in the disgusting innocence of her voice, lowering the tone as if she was revealing a kind of cruel, terrifying secret.

“_Do you remember the fact that our class had someone died in an accident at the stairs?"_

The first twenty minutes and Iwaizumi wanted to throw up all the beer that had been put down straight into his stomach.

-

Akairo was a small bar located deeply in a dark alley of Kabuki-cho, separate from the dirty service shops around with bright neon lights and red lanterns shining all night. 

Therefore, Oikawa was not surprised that the road to the third floor didn’t have any security cameras. Fine. Oikawa hated wasting bullets on unnecessary trifles. In fact, he was feeling so disgusted that he wanted to quit his job and go home now. He had spent the afternoon secretly expecting a good prey, a lucrative opportunity to taste the lavish taste and to show his talent of dissection. He arrived on time, had prepared enough weapons, he was confident he could win: everything was almost perfect.

_Almost_.

The clock rang at seven o'clock along with the message bell. Oikawa wished he hadn't check it. Because it was an email from Yahaba.

**From: ShigeruYahaba@gmail.com**

** Subject:** Work

_Oikawa-san,_

_ This is the information you have asked me. _

_ Sorry if there is a delay. _

Now, he had to wait until this damn job is done to thoroughly check the amount of information that Yahaba has sent and that fact was draining his patience.

_Seven o'clock._

Kuroo Tetsurou looked more like a player than an independent detective. He had the kind of face that would make Oikawa think he must go in and out of the jail in a daily basis even before he had a chance to open his mouth. His suit- made from red velvet, highlighted the smug-handed look on his face, in his terribly evil smirk. Oikawa paused for a moment to analyze the person sitting in front of him while still being wary of two large bodyguards standing on either side. Muscle relax. Good fist. There were no scars or old wounds on his body, no marks of guns or weapons under his vest. Maybe he didn’t often fight directly, so a duel might be more appropriate than using a gun. Oikawa narrowed his eyes, closing the door behind him, experiences from old work erecting an elaborate calculator page in his mind.Kuroo Tetsurou was an excellent prey. His eyes flickered slightly, the red dot from the neon reflected in his shining pupils, floated up and down in the dimly lit room just like a ghost.

Oikawa didn’t waste a second as soon as the heavy door closes behind him. With a smooth movement, the knife in the pocket around his waist was pulled out and just a few seconds later- it was embedded deep into the bodyguard's neck, engulfed in color and flesh. Oikawa didn’t even blink. His heartbeat did not increase as he slammed the handle of the knife and formed a slit from the neck to the big man's skull. Attack on the head is an indispensable thing.

Blood quickly spurted out as the man shouted, mixed into the sound of the crimson liquid pouring down his feet, and became the last resting place of the bodyguard. While his body collapses, Oikawa quickly pulled out the knife without losing any energy. Blood gushed out a piece of his sleeve, spilling onto the glittering tile floor of the flashy bar. Oikawa clicked his tongue in annoyance, spilling blood off the sharp blade. 

Oikawa straightened, casting a sharp gaze towards the other guy on the other side of the room. If they couldn't make the glasses on Oikawa’s nose wobble, he usually assumes that means they would be on par with other boring rats. The other, bigger and stronger, with his black shirt and pitiful tattoos, shivered backward while pointing the gun at him, his voice distorted as the man shouted out his bullies, tried to force Oikawa to back away and raised his hands behind his head.

_ He can ask Kuroo Tetsurou for a pay back for this bland timer later. _

The knife slipped back into its scabbard as Oikawa spinner and pulled out the gun on the opposite side and sticked a bullet to the bodyguard's face. Oikawa didn’t even stop to talk. He is not a spy in the movie, to stop and continue talking with his enemies while on the verge of life and death. Shoot is shoot. Oikawa, when he was younger and more naive, always dreamed of men wearing suits with flashy black guns. And he is here now, wondering why those idiots can't just pin a copper candy into the other’s brain, and that's the end of the movie.

The bullet went off more than Oikawa intended, because he saw a hole made in the other's cheek instead of in the head. Oikawa clicked his tongue slightly. His vision was limited by the darkness of the room, only a little faint light came from the TV and neon on the balcony, so he missed the first shot. Cannot waste bullets anymore. He wanted to reserve all this gift for Kuroo Tetsurou.

He slipped the gun back into his pocket and jumped on the glass table between the rows of sofas, feeling the fragile glass trembling under his weight. Within a split second, he threw a horizontal kick at the bodyguard's head, not letting the coward give him enough time to realize what was happening. Everything was perfect. The force of his foot was under the control of his brain, the heaviness felt when the tip of his shoe touched the other man's head, then merged into the bullet hole and sliced a crumb on his skull. Sprinkle. Sound of broken bone, head or neck bone. Oikawa wasn’t free to care but to note that small noise as a sign of the end of life for the corpse that collapsed to the floor.

_ Attack on the head is an indispensable thing. _

Oikawa raised his leg, wiping fresh blood off his turtleneck boots with an annoyed face. He stood up straight on the glass table, before shaking his head slightly, then looked at Kuroo.

With a height on the glass table and such sharp eyes, Oikawa was like a supreme being standing right in front of him, that's what Kuroo thought.

Kuroo Tetsurou had been sitting silently from the beginning till now without any obvious reaction. Oikawa glanced down at him with a cold expression, while silently praising the steel spirit of the messy head brat in front of his eyes. He didn’t have any expectations for the two poor bodyguards either, because Oikawa saw him slowly took a sip of wine, yawned a long sigh before standing up, smiling with the mocking gesture while looking into Oikawa's eyes. The cane in his hand was exquisitely carved with lines as if it were made of pure gold, showing the elegance in harmony with the red velvet suit.

There was a trail of blood on his cheek. Oikawa's mind bounced, trying to stop himself from hitting another kick straight into the crimson spots on his face. Good food needs to be saved and slowly savored.

"Forgive me, I accidentally made your wretched face dirty" Oikawa pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and said, his lips twisted in disdain. He stepped back, down from the glass table that was on the verge of breaking and facing the knife-sharp eyes of his enemy.

“It’s fine, _new kid._ I forgive you” 

Kuroo smiled and Oikawa couldn’t smirk at his leisurely joke. If it was normal, Oikawa would also spend some of his precious time making some exchange before he got into it, like drinking a glass of wine or eating to satisfy the money he was given by Mr. Bokuto Koutarou, for example. But not today. _Not now._

His mind wobbled between his focus on the task and the dazzling image of Iwaizumi and the cigarette between his slender fingers. He _needed_ to read that email.

“Yes" Oikawa pulled back, pulling the familiar knife from his side "I'll be happy to inform Bokuto that he" accidentally _died_-"

  
  


If in that room, under any of the chairs or the table, there is a recorder, then maybe the cops would find Oikawa's voice a little bit lost in the final sounds. Because him, with his instinct that was honed over the years, was lucky enough to tilt his head to the side just in time before the blade at the end of Kuroo's staff could take away any of his eyes. A breath of shock popped out of Oikawa's mouth as he catched a glimpse of a sharp blade gently flashing, then sinks into darkness, reflecting the mysterious dark green colors of the dark bar room. Within an instant, he flipped himself behind the sofa, taking a few seconds to think through it before calculating anything new.

So Kuroo Tetsurou is not the type of person who want to finish talking first. 

He straightened, returning to his position as before, leisurely twisted the tip of the luxurious cane so the blade would go back inside as normal. The tip of the stick, with the motif of the gold leopard glittering in the hand of his expert. So it was a sword. _Is there a gun inside?_ Kuroo didn’t look like a guy who likes to fight with his bare hands, so maybe his best friend was happy to give him something that could fight in long distances. If so, his close-range reaction may be slow and Oikawa can take advantage of that, but the key is to get close to him, with that damn stick. In the middle of the two rows of sofas, there was a glass table and they were facing each other between the narrow space of the table and the chair.

This annoying room is an obstacle to dealing with the scum. It could be if he sacrificed one or two scars on his arm. He only had one knife, two USW-A1s in his pocket and several external bullets.

"The police agency do have many tricks, huh?"

Kuroo Tetsurou smirked, his dark brown eyes hidden behind a mess of hair. Without missing any opportunity to attack him, Oikawa jumped on the sofa and kicked the glass table hard at Kuroo’s side. He was surprised by the plan to change into a new way, quickly dodged off the cheap table that had been kicked by some transcendent power towards him, along with a dull sound. But just as Oikawa anticipates, Kuroo near-range reaction is not as good as sword-using skill. Oikawa saw him kneeling slightly on his knees, hugging his shoulder that had been struck with the table, a few small glasses stuck to the opening on his neck. That damn cunning man wearing a _vest_.

While he is still stunned, Oikawa beginned his plan by taking a lightning-fast step to a reasonable distance in front of him and brandishing a knife. The dazzling knife before his eyes and Kuroo dodged the first shot, the second shot stabbed into the palm of his hand. Oikawa- knowing that there's no time to buck before a temporary victory- swung a left punch at the one who almost ruined his face. For a well-equipped foe, Oikawa needed to fight quickly. At least that's what he thought, before his arm was held by something and his fist was suspended in the air, only a few centimeters away from Kuroo's face.

Kuroo watched the way Oikawa glanced to the side, looked at the bent head of the stick he hooks into Oikawa's elbow and held it in time. Oikawa didn’t understand how he could hook so accurately without even having to look, but before he could explain Kuroo's terrifyingly smooth skills of using a cane, he felt something slammed on the side of his face, before staggering backward, the smell of blood in the bridge of his nose.

“Don't _look down_ on me like that, Kuroo Tetsurou"

The low bass resounded until Oikawa clenched his teeth and continued into the next battle. Kuroo must have read his movements, must have figured out how to deal with him, with blinding attacks and repeatedly giving Oikawa no chance to pull out his gun. With the short knife in his hand, he has to buck against the vicious blow from the body of the precious wooden staff, from the sharp knife hidden inside, and from Kuroo's pressure eyes and smirking lips. Kuroo Tetsurou. So this is a high level member of the police department. The attacks on the weak points were extremely evil and accurate. The swing could hardly withstand the circumference of it too long.

Oikawa was _tired_. He had several scratches on his body, a bloody incision on his arm and a broken breath. Kuroo had shards of glass on his neck and a shallow wound on his left cheek from Oikawa's knife. He was very upset.

This is starting to become a waste of time.

"What the hell are you, Harry Hart?" Oikawa frowned as he tilted his head to dodge another sword strike from Kuroo's skilled hand. He heard Kuroo's voice screamed excitedly before stepping forward in an attempt to split his head in half.

"This is Hattori Hanzo's sword, honey!"

A thought flashed through Oikawa's mind. _Kill Bill part one, the first scene with The Bride and Vernita Green._

Oikawa cautiously took two steps back, then three steps. Come on, figure it out- wait until he raises his hand or moves away from that spot, Oikawa needed it to be unshielded. Kuroo raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, then quickly smiled. Oikawa knew he's still not losing, with smiling lips when his eyes aren't. Oikawa knew he's still on the defensive. He slowly backed away, reaching a necessary distance, the handle of the knife clenched tightly in his hand.

_ Hurry up hurry hurry up hurry- _

“Back off, gentleman? I thought it was-"

_Exactly_.

  
  
  
  
  


Within a split second, as Kuroo Tetsurou's forearms move out of his left chest, the knife in Oikawa's hand was sent with a terrifying power and it is pinned right into where his beating heart was. Oikawa gasped for breath. For the first time in his life- for the first time since he first joined Aoba Johsai, he felt lucky that the knife was in the right place. Oikawa isn't good at throwing knives, he meant it, he's not The Bride or something like that. But the knife was stabbed into his chest- not deviating an inch, and Oikawa saw that so clearly, saw Kuroo Tetsurou's shoulders trembling and blood dripping soaked in his white shirt.

His eyes widen as if he doesn't know what he just encountered, but he couldn’t stay alive longer to realize it, so Oikawa saw him fall to the back wall, glaring at him. After nearly a minute, to make sure he was dead, Oikawa cautiously walked towards the body lying motionless on the floor. Hands lose. Flat chest. Two eyes looking at one spot, the long stick lying quietly in his hand- Kuroo Tetsurou was _dead_.

A refreshing breath popped out of Oikawa's mouth. For the first time, he felt lucky to successfully kill someone. He felt so damn pathetic, like he was playing lowly to win, just like The Bride was lucky enough to kill Gogo Yubari.

He looked down at the corpse at his feet, which only a few minutes ago was one of the most dangerous men he had ever faced: Kuroo Tetsurou had an amazing level of skill- a superb dish, a hand-wielding weapon. A person with a luxurious manner and bring the feeling of bloodthirsty at the same time.

Oikawa bent in front of him, taking the cane in his hand. He must have discovered that when Aoba Johsai arranged a fake date, it was possible for the police to ambush him. But Kuroo Tetsurou came alone. Oikawa didn’t fully know, maybe because he had foreseen that he would win, or maybe he couldn't secretly play dirty with another assassin.

Anyway- Oikawa felt like he's a _respectable_ person.

Perhaps in another world, Oikawa and him are drinking. Perhaps in another world he could understand Kuroo Tetsurou better. But in this rotten world, Oikawa was stroking his eyes and whispering an apology.

-

When Oikawa walked to the door, the phone in his pocket rang.

"Iwaizumi?" Oikawa picks up the phone, raises an eyebrow, dry blood settled in his nose and his arm. A smile appeared on his face, before he heard the panicked sound from the other side.

  
"O-Oikawa! I have something- please- please come here now! I-"

Today was not his lucky day, and tonight would be a long night.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot like some Kingsman and Kill Bill materials


End file.
